


The sun isn't that bad

by thatonegreenpencil



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series)
Genre: Established Relationship, Eventual drama (minimal), Excuse to write tooth-rotting fluff, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pokemon husbands, Romance, Vacation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-28 02:31:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8427814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatonegreenpencil/pseuds/thatonegreenpencil
Summary: A take on Red and Green's vacation to Alola, complete with married antics, tooth-rotting banter, surfing lessons, and topless Red (Green's favorite).





	1. Planning Stage

**Author's Note:**

> With Red/Green being the ship that got me into fanfiction writing in the first place, how could I not write something for these totally-married dorks. Especially when they were confirmed to be _actually_ married and on a honeymoon? That just screams lots of scenes for fluff. Screams it. I'm so glad everyone else has also been taking advantage of potential sun fun times, the amount of fanfic that has popped up for these two is just. Yes.
> 
> But of course, since this first chapter was written on impulse (and the fact that I'm still in school) means that I don't know how often this fic will be updated... Guess we'll all see, won't we? Hope you enjoy~

If anyone asks, it’s Red who suggested the vacation. Sure, it’s Green who starts researching first, browsing through pages of articles like  _ Top 10 ‘Hottest’ Vacation Spots  _ and amassing a mountain of resort pamphlets in the corner of his office, but it’s Red who pushed him into doing so. 

Red would  _ stare  _ at him—not his regular, nonchalant gaze that his resting face was composed of, the one that didn’t say a word but one Green could talk to for hours and know Red was listening; this stare made Green’s back itch with guilt, thickening comfortable silences over the dinner table into thick fogs of tension. The fog accumulates into thundering clouds of death on the nights Green comes home late with aching joints and heavy steps, when he steps into their apartment and calls out ‘I’m home’ and gets the same piercing stare from Red who’ll be sitting at the counter, nursing an empty cup of tea and a cold cup of coffee on the side. 

The real reason, however—it isn’t Red. Green realizes the need for a vacation the moment he realizes he’s not sure if there’s a tension between him and Red at all. The moment he realizes he hasn’t been around Red enough lately to know if there’s anything up with him because—thanks to the sudden influx of veteran trainers from other regions coming to Kanto—Green’s been working hours at the gym from the crack of dawn to late at night. The times he’s physically closest to Red are in bed, but these days Green is unconscious the moment his head hits the pillow; the times he’s emotionally closest to Red is during his lunch break, when Green sits at his office desk and rubs the golden band on his ring finger. Even he—the self-professed expert of all things Red with the evidence to prove it—needs a bit of time to navigate the complex mazes of Red’s subtle facial cues to figure out  _ exactly _ what’s wrong. And, well. Green hasn’t had the time to spare. 

When’s the last time they went alone somewhere together, anyway? And where? The pokemart down the block? Green almost feels bad for the mound of money gathering dust in the safe of the gym, unused. The only thing it’s ever used for is gym renovations and the season where donation-seeking organizations come to his door and Green doesn’t have the heart to say no. It’s  _ supposed _ to be their emergency funds (thanks, Daisy’s basic money-management lessons) but any hospital fees are covered by the health insurance he automatically has from being a gym leader. Besides, there’s enough in there from years of saving that even a large fraction won’t be missed, surely. He and Red need a vacation.

But Red seems to disagree wholeheartedly with this sentiment when Green’s mountain of pamphlets is transferred from his office to the coffee table of their living room. Red’s face twists into something that comes to disgust—or maybe fear? Green’s not surprised; because of the lack of sunshine up on Mount Silver, Red’s become completely avoidant of all things bright. He can barely tolerate the moderate weather in Viridian City—he squints at the sky on the cloudiest of days—so the oversaturation of sunlight on these pamphlets are bound to be a  _ little _ intimidating.

Pikachu, on the other hand, peers curiously over Red’s shoulder with his nose twitching. After a few seconds, he jumps down and paws hesitantly at the sea spanning the back and front of one of the pamphlets, as if to brush the skin of the remoraid that are frozen mid-jump with droplets splashing behind them. He gives a little ‘pika?’ and looks up at Green with those beady-but-cute little eyes of his. Green shrugs. “It’s up to Red, bud.”

Green grins when he looks back at the said pokemon champion and sees that the rejection in his eyes has softened. Red even reaches out for the pamphlet Pikachu’s taken an interest in—albeit timidly—and flips through. Some of Green’s triumph wavers when Red remarks, “This looks okay.” Like how two-day old pizza looks okay when you’re unsure whether it’s actually edible even though it  _ technically _ is. 

“C’mon, you’re getting paler from sitting in the house all day. In fact,” Green reaches over and pokes Red’s cheek. “I think you’re  _ paler _ than how you were on that mountain.” 

Red gently swats him away, one of those rare almost-grins inching onto his face. “That’s a lie. I’ve been outside more than you, these days.”

Between taking care of the gym and monthly pokemon association meetings,  _ maybe _ Green hasn’t had that much time to actually go out and enjoy the wonders of nature. In his defense, Red is the one who threw away years of being able to enjoy  _ actual _ trees instead of those barren sticks of the mountain summit. “Going to the pokemart doesn’t count as outside, Red,” chides Green.”

“I’ve been doing more than that.”

Green eyes the way Red’s shirt is stretched tight around his once-lanky shoulders and decides he can’t deny the fact that Red has been doing  _ something _ . And Green has a sneaking suspicion it has to do with that  _ Exercises to do with Your Pokemon: For the Body and Bond _ book he saw Red eyeing in the bookstore months ago. Green once found a book called  _ Cooking up Health and Love with Pokemon _ stored away between Red’s comforters and, shortly after, discovered that many of his kitchen utensils had disappeared, only to reappear later in brand-new condition as if they had been replaced. 

Green considers Red’s obsession with trainer-pokemon bonding activities to be nothing more than cute at best (Green’s pretty sure Red doesn’t need to do anything special earn his pokemon’s love because Red just has a  _ knack _ for making everyone love him in that quiet, stoic way of his) but in this case, the gym leader feels like he can use it to his advantage. Green leans over and expertly flips to a dog-eared page in a pamphlet titled  _ Come have fun in the Alolan sun!  _ Which sounds cringe-worthy, but Green found it to contain a plethora of noteworthy activities including:

“Our beach island vacation program contains a three-day pokemon-trainer surfing program that is taught by world-class surfers and guarantees to teach you—not only a basic understanding of how to surf—but also how to involve your pokemon while doing so,” Green reads out loud, struggling not to smile when he sees Red’s eyes brighten with interest out of the corner of his eye. 

With a blank face, Green shrugs and tosses the pamphlet back onto the coffee table. Red stares at it like it’s a steak (or a big plate of pasta, in Red’s case). It’s cute how impassive he tries to be sometimes. All the time.

Slowly, Red picks up the pamphlet and flips to the dog-eared page. There’s a moment of anticipatory silence in which Green trades hopeful glances with Pikachu (as well as funny faces, because years of living with the same electric mouse will do that to you). It’s broken by the quiet rustling of paper as the pamphlet is set back down.

Red looks up at Green and goes, “But I don’t even have a suitcase.”

Green has to struggle to fight down a smile once again, but this time, it’s a losing battle. He leans over the coffee table to plant a kiss onto Red’s forehead before dragging him up to his feet. “Time to go shopping,” Green declares, already heading to the front door with Red in tow.

They both suddenly skid to a halt when Red decides to dig the heels of his feet into the ground. Green almost falls on his face, but he knows Red well enough to know that Red didn’t mean any harm. “I’m fine,” Green says, recomposing himself, smoothing down his hair the best he can. “What’s the matter?”

“I can walk fine on my own without you dragging me everywhere,” Red says. What’s unsaid are what the small creases at the corners of his eyes tell Green—the guilt at the almost-damage done to Green’s face.

“I’ve been dragging you around everywhere since we were six,” points out Green. “And I’m fine, idiot.”

The microscopic worry melts from Red’s face and Green rolls his eyes at how stupid (and touchingly sweet) his husband can be. Ice-cold champion of Kanto, concerned over an accident that didn’t even happen. Green snorts gently as he drops Red’s wrist, only to have his fingers captured by another’s the instant after. Red’s rough, warm palm makes contact with his as their fingers intertwine into a firm grip.

“Let’s go, then,” says Red. 

Green finally breaks into that grin he’s been holding onto.


	2. Packing Shenanigans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vacation shopping. Yep. That's a thing. And a featured guest of the day: Leaf!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thank you so so so much to everyone that's been commenting, kudoing, or even just bothering to read. I haven't had time to reply to anything but I have been reading every single comment, and every comment hasn't failed to make my day. I had no idea that this mismatch of fluffy headcanons for these married dorks would garner so much attention, so, thank you! I'm a lot less busy this week, so I'll do my best to reply to comments and such.
> 
> A note: the amount of personal headcanons included in the story will dramatically increase from here on out so. Ye be warned.
> 
> Also, as a disclaimer: google is actually really good for vacation packing. Green getting horrible search results had to be done for the sake of the plot (or maybe he's actually just. That bad with google). Or maybe pokemon world google only gives you good results for pokemon-related things? Who knows: my point is, if you need help with vacation packing, don't hesitate to ask google!

Green’s not sure what’s worse: packing or getting stuff to actually pack.

Neither he nor Red are experts at tropical vacations. Green’s been to the warmer parts of Hoenn a few times but for work-related reasons, meaning the only experience he gained from those trips was what it felt like to be stuck in lab after lecture hall after lab (not fun, is the answer). The sum of Red’s lifelong experience is the polar opposite of a tropical climate, so he’s no help. 

(Just to confirm his assumptions, Green asks Red what a sunburn is. The only response he gets is a blank stare, so Green considers his assumptions confirmed.)

After searching ‘what to pack for vacation to alola’ on the internet and discovering that a majority of the results are either those fashion magazine top ten lists that load every single entry on the list and leave you waiting for a million years, or, yahoo answers that  _ link _ to said top ten lists—because apparently the only thing people need on a tropical vacation are clothes that make them look like supermodels—Green starts getting frustrated. He starts getting delusional. He starts muttering “stupid fucking yahoo answers” under his breath like a madman. When Eevee peeks up from her bed in the corner of his office to shoot him a concerned look, Green decides that maybe the internet isn’t the solution.

So what is?

He pushes himself away from his desk with his feet and reclines back, sighing. His office chair manages to roll and twist in such a way that it ends up angling itself towards the far side of his desk, away from the computer. Of course, Green doesn’t realize the significance of this until he stops his tired sighing and bothers to open his eyes to find his line of sight perfectly aligned with his pokegear, which happens to be sitting there. 

Phone calls have never failed him, Green thinks as he sidles forward with his rolling desk chair and grabs the device from the table. Whereas texting requires waiting, abbreviations, and the annoyance of autocorrect, calling is simple and direct. Green is a man of simple pleasures, and he is also a man that doesn’t like to embarrass himself in front of his superiors with unfortunate autocorrect casualties.

But as he thumbs through his list of contacts, he’s struck with the realization that he has the opinion of academic experts at his fingertips, sure—but who the hell does he know that’s an expert on  _ vacation packing? _

Luckily, he finds his answer at the very bottom of the list, where the pixels spell out the name ‘Leaf’ next to a phone number he hasn’t called in quite some time. 

Leaf is one of the few in Green’s contacts that has no relation to the pokemon league whatsoever, and therefore, is one Green’s few exclusively personal connections. So perhaps he should feel guilty about her name being at the bottom—he does, a little bit—but what’s really important is that Leaf is a free spirit. She travels all around the world doing her own thing, making her the only one out of their childhood friendship circle (consisting of her, Red, and himself) to actually live the life they’d all dreamed of as children.

And making her a travel expert. That’s the important part.

Green presses the call button next to her name and waits. It takes barely two rings before her voice is on the line, chirping out a greeting. The twinge of guilt inside his chest grows; Green wonders if she dropped everything she was doing to answer his call, the call from a friend who hasn’t kept in touch in a good few months. (Save pictures on social media, but pressing that little like button shouldn’t take the place of an actual conversation.)

“Hey, it’s been a while,” Green says cautiously.

On the other end, Leaf blows a raspberry. “You know it has, you prick. Cold-hearted pringle. Meanie.” Green suddenly remembers that Leaf is only slightly less of a shit than he is and finds himself feeling a lot better. “But I’ve been busy too, so I guess I’ll forgive you.”

A grin creeps onto the gym leader’s face. “Prick? Meanie? Be a little more original with your insults, won’t you?”

“Cold-hearted pringle is pretty original,” protests Leaf with faux indignance. 

“I happen to like pringles, so that doesn’t count as an insult.”

“Fuck you,” replies Leaf, light-heartedly. “Anyway, what’s up? Oh wait, let me guess. Is it about the gym?”

Green huffs. That’s always her guess with ‘what’s up’ with him and, discounting the fact that she’s right 99 percent of the time, it’s a little damaging to his ego. “It’s not, actually. I was coming to you for advice.”

“Advice? That’s new. Usually you talk my ear off about some annoying rookie trainer or another.”

Leaf enjoys the stories as much as he does, and she knows it. “Usually you can’t help me with the stuff I need advice for—”

“Nor do I want to help you with that boring paperwork stuff,” Leaf interjects. Green grunts.

“Yeah, we have an agreement there. But today’s your lucky day, because it’s actually about something you’re very skilled in.” Green lets that statement sink in. “Red and I are going on a vacation.”

Green can feel a layer of heat rise to his cheeks as Leaf’s coos and aww’s filter through the pokegear’s speakers. “... and it’s about time,” Leaf’s saying when Green brings the device back up to his ear. “You and Red haven’t gone somewhere together in forever! Did you guys even go on a honeymoon?”

“In fact, we did.” That is, if a trip to Johto’s Lake of Rage counts as a honeymoon. Sure, it’s the region right next door and they were only there for a day or two, but they went somewhere and had fun, right? Right.

“Was Red the one who suggested the vacation? Oh, what did he bribe you with to convince you to leave the gym for more than five hours? Did he get you some kind of research grant?”

“I was the one who suggested it, actually,” grumbles Green. “My life’s not  _ all _ work.”

“Sure Mr. Workaholic.” Leaf snorts. “So, packing, right? You better write down everything I’m about to tell you, because I’m sure you and Red are  _ so _ hopeless and lost right now.”

It’s scary, how she knows so much without even having to be told. But that’s Leaf for you: slightly annoying, overbearing, dependable, motherly Leaf.

The list she fires off is a long one; Green wonders if she’s just used to being over-prepared and whether or not he should leave out some of the items on the list, but he eventually decides to trust Leaf’s judgement. She’s surprisingly accommodating towards his stupid questions, only calling Green an idiot once or twice.

“Thanks, Leaf,” Green says as he jots down the last item—and he means it. “What would we do without you?”

“Die in a hole, probably,” replies Leaf, much too cheerily. She’s interrupted by a sudden stream of chatter from her side. She replies but with her mouth away from the phone, which means her words are a blur of muffled sound in Green’s ears. “Sorry Green,” she says a few moments later. “Your company’s great and all, but I really have to run. Actual responsibilities and all that.” Green has to wonder what said ‘responsibilities’ consist of, since Leaf isn’t actually employed, but he keeps his mouth shut. “But be sure to call me more often, okay? And send beach photos!”

Green snorts. “You sound like a thirsty tabloid journalist.”

“ _ Mean _ . Seriously though—” Her voice suddenly gets significantly softer, its joking lightness replaced by a heavy sincerity that weighs on Green’s shoulders more than the guilt did from earlier. “Take care of yourselves, alright? Have fun.”

His voice comes out a little choked. “Yeah, you too. Let’s actually catch up sometime. Thanks again.”

Green clicks the pokegear off at the sound of the dial tone and turns his attention to list in his hands. He and Red have shopping to do.

* * *

 

Supermarket trips aren’t fun. Most of the time, it’s just Green staring at a can of beans and trying to remember whether it was  _ this _ brand he had bought or the one with the little turtwig on the label. It’s a grab your stuff, get to the checkout, throw your money and leave process, which is why Green usually avoids the task of getting groceries like the plague.

Unless Red agrees to go with him. Having someone to share your misery is always a fun experience.

Red doesn’t seem to be sharing the experience today; in fact, he seems to be pretty interested in the shelves of sunscreen and first aid kits piled up along the aisles. He looks at each thing that catches his eye with deliberate care, twisting it in his hand a couple times a ‘hmm’ing thoughtfully. The sight is kind of mesmerizing, if not for the fact that it leaves Green doing all of the actual shopping  _ by himself _ .

“A plug adapter? Why the hell does Alola need its  _ own type of power socket? _ ” Green asks aloud.

“Here.” There’s a small thump of something falling into the cart and what do you know, it’s an Alolan plug adapter. Green sees his husband’s eyes light up with amusement. “We’re only going to be there for two weeks. You’re packing like we’re moving there.”

“I’m just being careful.” The cart is filled with store-brand sandals and clothes (mostly Red’s, because the guy has no clothes fit for tropical weather), various bottles of sunscreen and deodorant, sunglasses for them and their pokemon, windbreakers, and first-aid supplies. “We’re not going rambo like you did on Mount Silver, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

Red hums thoughtfully. “This isn’t all going to fit in our suitcases.”

Green considers that. “We’ll cross that line when we get to it. I think we’re all set for now, anyway, unless…” He side-eyes Red. “You don’t have a swimsuit, do you?” When Green’s met with a quizzical look and a head tilt (the antics Red gets from Pikachu are too fucking adorable, considering how vicious the rodent can be), he sighs and proceeds to lead the two of them to checkout.

A while later, they end up in an actual mall. Green immediately makes a beeline for the swimsuit section with Red in tow. “Here,” Green says, tossing various-colored swimming trunks at Red’s head. “Try these on.”

Red peels the articles of clothing from his face and looks over them, face scrunched in thought. “I don’t really like white,” he says, holding up a zebra-striped  _ speedo oh god how did that get there— _

Green snatches the (swimsuit, he  _ refuses _ to use speedo and Red in the same sentence in public) out of Red’s hand, face scarlet. “It’s for size purposes, now shoo, go try a few on and see if they fit.”

A ghost of a smile tugs at Red’s lips. “Not interested in coming with?”

Green sputters some more, his face growing warmer by the second—the intensity is kicked up about five-hundred times when Red lets out a small puff of laughter, his usual stoic face opening up completely for a millisecond and breaking into a grin—then he turns away to head towards the changing rooms.

Green releases a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “ _ Speedos _ ,” he mutters, glaring at the offending article of clothing gripped tight in his fist. Nevertheless, he hangs it back onto the rack with care.

(When Red comes back out and begins to gravitate towards the white speedo, Green physically has to throw himself into Red’s path to steer his attention elsewhere. He catches a microscopic grin settled on Red’s lips as he turns towards the other clothing racks, and in that moment Green decides it within his rights to elbow the other in the side, initiating a tickle-fight right in the middle of the store. Thank god it’s a Sunday night.)

“That was fun,” says Red thirty minutes later, a bag containing his brand-new pair of black swimming trunks in hand (with a pokeball pattern on the waistband, which Green can’t decide if it’s cute or just plain embarrassing). Just to solidify his point, Red yawns and leans his weight against Green’s side, letting his head rest in the crook of the gym leader’s neck. Green sighs, planting a chaste kiss on Red’s cheek before pushing him away.

“C’mon you lug, you can sleep at home.” He eyes the multitude of bags in Red’s hands and the slightly smaller multitude in his own hands. “Need me to carry some?”

Red shoots him an amused look because they both know that Red more arm strength than Green at this point, but Green’s just trying to be a good husband, okay? He can’t help but pout a bit, which earns him another, even more amused look from Red.

They walk the rest of the way home in silence, hands clasped and sides touching, draped and warmed by each other’s affection.


End file.
